There's A Ghost In My Bedroom
by percipere
Summary: After Grady, Daryl is so miserable all he does is drink shitty instant coffee and work on the same engine part over and over. He doesn't think about Beth and he doesn't think about how his life basically has no meaning now. Until a familiar voice convinces him to head to Palmer Springs. or, Merle's ghost is way less of a dick than he could be. {also posted on a03}
1. one

Daryl would never admit it, but he slept so much better in Aaron and Eric's guestroom than he ever had back at the prison. He didn't believe a house or an inanimate object could have an energy or a, what do those hippies call it, an iaura/i, but something was definitely different. Even sleeping in the guestroom as opposed to one of the two houses his group called home was different. Maybe it was just being around some new folks, or maybe it was that Aaron and Eric bent over backwards to try and cheer him up, including attempting to get him to play Scrabble, to which Daryl just grunted and shook his head before heading out into the chilly fall air. Truthfully, he appreciated the gesture, he just hated Scrabble, never was good with words or spelling.

But tonight something was off, he remained in his bed for hours, just looking at the popcorn ceilings, making shapes out of nothing. For some reason, the pain in his chest was worse, an unmistakable twang that pulled deeply on his heart, and it wasn't heartburn from that southwest chili Aaron had made and apparently used every damned jalapeno in the safe zone. No, it was Beth. Anymore he just shoved his feelings out, he didn't think of her, he barely looked at Maggie. It was too painful.

Aaron tried to get it out of him, poking and prodding at his brain and heart gently. Daryl would come down the stairs without showering for two days, his hair sticking up because of the grease sweat, he'd grab the mug of coffee Eric always had waiting on the corner of the kitchen island before heading out to the garage to work on his bike. Then Aaron would come out, hands shoved in the kangaroo pocket of his hoodie and he'd attempt to make small talk. _Cold out here, huh?_ He give a fake shiver with an even faker laugh. _You know, you can talk to me or Eric, we care about you, Daryl._ Or some other variation while he wandered around the garage in his sock feet, touching things and never putting them back where Daryl had placed them. Eventually, when Daryl didn't respond, he'd let out a tiny sigh and then; _Well, you know where to find me. Eric's making tofu for lunch. I know you're probably skeptically, but it's actually good once you put enough soy sauce on it._ Then he'd wander back into the house and Daryl would continue doing what Daryl does. Think, work on his bike, take a gulp of coffee which is now cold, work on the bike a little more, step outside of the garage for half of a cigarette, step back inside, another gulp of coffee—finish the cup, work on the bike.

Don't think about Beth.

Usually he's woken up to the smell of instant coffee and whatever concoction Aaron is whipping up in the kitchen, but this morning he hears the definite sounds of boots walking across the wooden floor, and through squinted eyes he can see the dirty, scuffed leather making their way from the door and along the length of the mattress, stopping at the dresser. It's probably Eric being Eric and dropping off his washed clothes, normally he drops them off while Daryl is gone for the day.

But he doesn't hear drawers open, instead he hears the sound of the antique model car that's on top of the dresser being picked up, the small sound of the metal doors being open by gravity, and then the loud bang of metal against the wooden top. This is not Eric. This has to be a dream. He closes his eyes like a child and burrows himself deeper in the gray blanket. He hears the footsteps come back towards his head, maybe they're leaving.

"Mornin' baby brother! I know you's awake, never was good at playin' possum."

Daryl slowly opens his eyes, only to be met with blue eyes he's known his entire life, the salt and pepper hair he's made fun of for the last ten, and the distinct mixture of Jack Daniels and body odor that could only be from a Dixon. This had be a dream, a hallucination, like he had while looking for Sophia. "Merle?"

"Happy to see me?" He asks, standing up, slapping the side of Daryl's head softly.

Daryl blinks a few times before rolling onto his back, staring up at his big brother, confused. "Really want me to answer that?"

"That's no way to greet blood."

"What're you doing here?"

Merle ignores his question and heads back down to the dresser, this time opening the top drawer. "Nice set up you've got here, huh? Living with a couple'a fags."

"They're good people."

"Uh huh, I know baby brother. The gayest one, with that firecrotch hair, he does your laundry, huh? And the other one cooks your meals." Merle leaves the drawer open before wandering over to the chair in the corner, where Daryl's dirty jeans lay draped over the back, Beth's knife laying peacefully on the woven, wooden seat, he squints at the vase of flowers next to it before shaking his head. "Must be better here than with good ol' Merle, huh?"

"It's a real bed. Ain't no cot."

Merle ticks his tongue and leans on the footboard of the bed. "Need you to come with me, baby brother."

"Ain't goin' nowhere with you." Daryl scoffs. "I'm fine here."

"You're fine alright, burning yourself, living in misery every day." Merle watches as Daryl's brows furrow, enjoying getting a rise out of him. "I saw it, alright. Big brother Merle's been keeping his eye on you, baby brother. Someone's gotta keep an eye out since Officer Friendly's off on Loon Island again. Killing people in the streets." He ticks his tongue. "Only place he's gon' lead you is to your death, though you seem to be doin' a good job of that yourself.'

"Some job you're doing." Daryl flings the blankets off and somberly climbs out of bed, groaning a little as his feet hit the cold, wooden floor. "You got a point?"

"That little blonde thing from the prison, the old man's daughter." Merle states as Daryl's face falls, he should've know, he can't count on Merle for anything. "B…, Bianca…no…, _Beth_. That's right, little brother, ol' Merle knows all about that, too. Leading her to safety after our good friend the Governor came through, catching her snakes, the funeral home. Mmm-mmm. You fell in love with her."

"Don't." Daryl manages to croak out as he stands.

"You couldn't save her, you watched that cop bitch—"

"I said don't." Daryl half-heartedly pointing his finger in Merle's direction. He's officially on par with Rick, seeing dead people, rage and sadness building inside him. He had been trying to forget Dawn, forget Grady, forget all of it.

"She's alive, baby brother."

"Get the fuck outta here." Daryl picks up the old fashioned alarm clock and throws it in Merle's direction, it goes straight through him, landing safety on the chair behind him. "Can't I get some goddamn peace for once? I was so relieved when your old ass died, finally I wouldn't have to deal with you bothering me, but now you're here, worse than ever." He stops, his breathing heavy. "She got shot in the head Merle, I ain't stupid."

Merle stands for a minute, watching as Daryl fights the tears welling in his eyes. He's not mad, which is surprising. When they were boys in school the minute Daryl dared to talk back Merle had him pinned on the floor, a hand at his throat. He'd let him writhe for a minute before helping him, then explain he as preparing him for their dad, mouth like that will get you nowhere with him. "You done? Gonna let me explain some things to you, little brother? Tell you what is fact like I always have? Or are you gonna throw another hissy fit, Darlina."

"Ain't fact. She's dead."

"She ain't. That fancy pants doctor, Edwards, stitched her up good. Bullet didn't even touch her brain, baby brother. I ain't no doctor, but she's all healed up. Heading here now, red car, real piece of shit. She'll break down in Palmer Springs, outside'a Richmond. You gotta get her, brother. She'll die without you, it's a damn romance novel." Merle smiles. "Clocks tickin', baby brother. Those biters are hungry."


	2. two

Daryl didn't believe him. How could he, really. He _saw_ Beth go down, he checked her pulse. They left her there. She was dead.

But he couldn't live with himself if didn't at least check, and he had never heard of this Palmer Springs place before, it wasn't his mind. This was Merle actually being helpful, maybe. Probably not.

"You gonna go?" Merle asks, he's now taken a seat in the chair after Daryl grabbed his jeans and Beth's knife from it.

Daryl nods. "Ain't cause I believe you."

"Okay." Merle doesn't believe Daryl, but his job was to just get him there, to Beth. Daryl packs his bag with necessities. A change of underwear, an extra shirt in case something happened to his, and a couple of Eric's homemade granola bars that tasted like death but would save you in a pinch. "You gotta check out with mom and dad?" Merle asks, a smirk pulling on his lips. "Guess which one's which."

Daryl rolls his eyes, but is silently punching himself. He didn't even think about how he was going to get past Eric and Aaron. They were probably about to come up here and drag him down the stairs to eat breakfast. "I'm a grown ass man." Daryl mumbles to himself before slinging his backpack on and heading towards the door.

"Keep tellin' yourself that, baby brother." Merle chuckles.

At this point Daryl is seriously wondering if he can kill a ghost. "Ain't you coming?"

"Don't worry about me, baby brother. I've got the best seat in the house."

Daryl opens his door and hears Aaron and Eric laughing and pots and pans rattling. There's music playing, he doesn't know which song it is but he knows its from a musical that he was forced to watch a couple days ago.

As he makes his way down the stairs, he stops at the landing, smelling the omelets cooking. _"Should we wake him?"_ It's Eric, the fridge closes and he hears the sound of his bare feet slapping across the wooden floor. _"Let's wait until breakfast is done, he needs the rest."_ A drawer opens and closes. " _You're right. He's been working so hard, he's been through so much."_

He takes a deep breath, before stepping down with a thud.

"Daryl, that you?" Aaron calls, the sound of a metal spatula scraping across the skillet. "We've got a big omelet in here with your name on it. I didn't put any green onions in it, I know you hate the way they feel on your teeth."

"Ain't never said that." Daryl leans against the counters near the fridge, he knows Eric hates it because _apparently_ he leaves a trail of dirt and grease wherever he goes, but he doesn't really care at this precise moment, Eric turns around and stares at him, his eyes silently screaming for him to stop leaning his ass against the counter.

"You always have trouble with them sticking to your teeth, remember?" Aaron smiles, glancing over his shoulder at Daryl. "Hey, where you going?" Aaron's smile starts to fade as he notices the backpack and the coat he normally wouldn't wear if he was just wandering around the safe zone.

"I, uh, gotta go." Daryl looks down. "Outside the walls for a bit."

"Why?" Aaron asks, handing the spatula to Eric before making his way across the floor in those stupid brightly colored socks he wore.

"Just do."

Aaron lightly touches Daryl's shoulder. "Hey, Daryl, what's going on?"

Daryl looks up and sees Merle across the room looking at the license plates adorning the wall next to the front door. "You ain't gonna believe me."

"Try me."

Daryl lets out a tiny sigh.

"Tell him, little brother." Merle's voice carries across the room. "Tell him, you say he's a good man."

"Let's go in the office." Aaron tells him, lightly pushing him towards the right.

Daryl goes, but begrudgingly. This would be so much easier if he was living with Rick and Carl and Michonne.

Aaron sits on the edge of the desk and looks at Daryl, like a concerned teacher. "Tell me, Daryl."

"Merle said Beth was in Palmer Springs. I gotta go get her."

Aaron takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly. "Daryl, both of those people are dead. You told me that, remember?"

"I know, but Merle was in my room this morning. Told me where to find her, never even heard of Palmer Springs before. I have to check."

"Mecklenburg?"

"I don't know, that's what he said."

"I think Eric and I've been out there before, a long weekend." Aaron nods. "I'm coming with you."

"I can do it myself."

"I can't let you go out there by yourself, Daryl." A small smile pulls on Aaron's lips. "We'll take the RV, spend a couple days looking for her, okay?"

Daryl nods. "Fine."

"I'll tell Aaron, then I'll pack a bag so we can go. _Please_ , eat breakfast, it's a long drive."

Daryl grumbles as he walks away from Aaron and towards the kitchen, Eric had already set a place for him at the table, his mug of hot instant coffee next to his plate. His eyes nearly roll out of his head when he sees Eric has placed two sliced strawberries above the perfectly folded omelet to make a smiley face. This guy needed a hobby, bad.

Eric pats Daryl on the shoulder as he walks to office.

"What's going on?" Eric asks, positioning himself in between Aaron's legs and running his hand through Aaron's head of curls.

"He said that Merle told him Beth was alive."

Eric's eyes widen. "They're dead."

"I know, but he feels like he need to check and make sure." Aaron sighs, moving his head into Eric's fingers. They always made him feel like he was doing the right thing.

"You're going with him." Eric states, he knows his partner is too good, too caring, to let Daryl brave this alone. When he finds out that his hallucination is a lie, he'll need someone there to bring him back to Alexandria in one piece.

"I have to." Aaron sighs. "I know that he's not mentally stable, but I don't know what we're going to go do when he realizes she's not there. We might lose him, Eric." Aaron's voice cracks a little. In a way, they had taken Daryl on as their child. A child who is a little older than them, but still needed that parental care and love. And they were happy to do it, they'd always wanted children before the turn, it was in their nature to be nurturers and Daryl was the first person to come along that needed those feelings.

"We'll think of something, we always do." Eric kisses the mass of curls. "I'll get you two some food ready for the road."

"If he plays that damned Von Tramp bullshit one more time," Merle mumbles from the table behind the driver's seat. "I will slit his throat." Merle's dead serious, too. He hates nothing more than musicals, there's no humor in his voice.

"Ain't you got some Johnny Cash or somethin'." Daryl asks removing his feet from the dashboard.

"Not a fan of iThe Sound of Music/i?" Aaron asks with a smile.

"Fuck no." Truthfully, he didn't mind it. But he liked Aaron and didn't want him to die at the hands of ghost Merle.

"There might be some Fleetwood Mac in the CD case." He looks over at Daryl, who is digging through the glove box to find this magical CD case he's talking about. "You like Fleetwood Mac?"

"Don't know but it's gotta be better than this shit."

"Oh come on, Daryl. _Heroes are Hard to Find_ , _Tusk,_ hell, _Rumors_? You know _Go Your Own Way_?" He starts to sing it a little and Daryl looks back at Merle whose eyes are wide and ready for blood.

"Yeah—okay this ain't a damn show boat." Daryl cuts him off as he looks through the CD case.

Aaron turns his eyes back to the road. "Did Merle give you any more information? Like where we should be looking?"

"Nope. That's Merle, don't bother helping any. Did say a red car, though."

"Red car, that's helpful. Alright, we'll set up a base camp when we get there and head out in the woods."

Daryl nods, he knows Aaron doesn't believe him, why should he. He was the one that told him that Beth had died, that he iwatched/i her die, that she was limp in his arms. He's probably heard more from Glenn or Rick. He doesn't understand why he keeps getting good people put in his life, he sure as hell doesn't deserve it.


	3. three

The sign on his right read _Palmer Springs—15 miles._

Truthfully, he was starting to get nervous. The probability of Beth not being there was high, but even for Merle, this would be cruel; to lie about something this huge. His brain was a ping-pong ball, going back and forth. He knew he shouldn't get his hopes up, but the chance of his Beth, his person, being alive made it hard.

They drive along, the soft sound of Stevie Nicks voice carrying through the RV. Merle had disappeared again, so it was just Aaron and Daryl.

"You gonna tell me about her?" Aaron asks, glancing over at Daryl.

"What about her?"

"Anything."

"She sings. Better than this broad."

Aaron smiles. "Normally I would be offended, but I'll let it slide. What does she sing?"

"Anything." Daryl fiddles with the hem of his jacket. "Plays piano, too. While we was separated from the group we found a funeral home and she played the piano in the viewing room for hours. I sat in the casket and listened the whole time. I can't remember the song, but the piano part it replays in my head sometimes."

Aaron is kind of speechless, he's pretty sure this is the most he's ever heard him talk at once. "I hope I get to hear her sing."

"Me too." Daryl chews on his fingernail. "You're gonna like her."

They set up basecamp a little ways off from the main road. They don't leave anything of value in the RV just in case there's a group around here that wants the RV more than they do.

"We'll make our way east first, then come back for the night. Got six hours of light left, I'd say." Aaron looks over at Daryl while he adjusts his crossbow on his back. "That okay with you?"

"Yeah." Daryl nods as Aaron checks his rifle for rounds.

Aaron can tell Daryl is off, whether he's sad or anxious or both, he's not sure. "If she's out here, we'll find her. We can't stay forever, but I want you to know this is mostly in your hands, okay? You're in charge." Well, he was in charge until Aaron decided he was a risk to their safety. He was hoping it wouldn't come to that, Aaron having to take over, he wanted Daryl to have some control.

Of all people, Aaron knew what it was like to have things out of his hands, and while being force-fed applesauce was, in fact, traumatic, he can't even imagine what Daryl has been through, to have someone like Beth, whatever he was to her, ripped from his fingers twice in a short amount of time.

He hasn't prayed in a while, since middle school, probably, but he'd be lying if he said he didn't ask whatever deity there was watching over them to allow this Beth thing to be true.

"Thought you said I was in charge?" Daryl asks as Aaron takes a seat on a rock.

"Hydration is important, Daryl. We'll keep walking in a minute." Aaron grabs his water bottle out of his pack and takes a drink. "You should take a drink, too."

"I'm fine." Daryl shifts on his feet and looks around. "There's a couple houses 'round here, we should check 'em. Might be holed up in one."

"Good idea. Might find something good."

Daryl didn't really want to turn this into a supply run, he was here for Beth and Beth only, but he supposes it wouldn't hurt to kill two birds with one stone.

The first house they come across is a huge farmhouse off a back road. It's white and immaculate, exactly the kind of house Beth would be drawn to. In a way, it reminded him of Hershel's farm with the wrap around porch and the large weathervane a couple hundred feet up from the house.

He follows Aaron up the driveway, passing the weathervane and a discarded tractor, when he sees the familiar sight of his brother sitting in the aged rocking chair on the porch. It has to be a sign.

"I knew you'd come here, baby brother." Merle smiles once they get closer. "She ain't here."

"Where's she at, Merle?" Daryl asks, causing Aaron to look back with confusion on his face.

"Can't tell ya. You have to find her. Ain't my rules. I'd take a look around inside though, might find something."

"Is he here?" Aaron asks quietly, looking back and forth between Daryl and where Daryl's eyes are pointed. "Ask him if we're close."

Merle laughs. "Go inside, little brother."

"Let's go." Daryl lightly pushes Aaron towards the door. "Bastard ain't helping."

They head back to basecamp when the light in finally started to fade, making the trees on either side of them feel like they're caving in, moving in on them. It doesn't bother Daryl, these woods are no different than the woods in Georgia, where he feels most comfortable. Aaron, on the other hand keeps looking behind him and to his left and right, Daryl can't help but be annoyed, there's nothing worse to him than a fidgety person, someone who just won't calm the fuck down. It reminds him of Beth, how scared she was after they left the prison. He was such a _dick_ to her, he regrets it now. He should've tried to comfort her, somehow.

There was no trace of her, at least on this end of the road, they searched a few houses and didn't find much other than a few cans and a sign Aaron was taking back to Eric to put with the rest of their crap collection. The house was a bust, he should've known. Merle was the least helpful person in the universe, probably. Daryl can't even imagine one time where Merle went out of his way to help him with something. He didn't help him in school, didn't help him when it came to William Dixon, and he sure as hell didn't help him when the world went to shit. The only thing he's ever done for Daryl was convince to try and rob that Atlanta camp, where he met Rick, which in turn led him to Beth was the only thing worth writing home about Merle ever did. And he fucked that up, too.

Aaron roasts a couple squirrels that Daryl caught while they were out over a low fire, while Daryl starts to dig a hole to put the stuff they found in it, so they didn't have to pack it around. The RV was big and hard to miss, so it could easily bring out people who wanted to steal it.

"Squirrel's ready." Aaron calls, barely above a whisper. They're lucky, they've barely seen any walkers out, except around the houses.

Daryl stabs the shovel in the ground behind the RV and heads over to the fire, plopping down on a piece of wood.

"I hope you aren't discouraged." Aaron tells him, passing him a plate. "We've only covered one half of the road, tomorrow we'll have more time."

Daryl nods and takes the plate, poking at the squirrel with his finger.

"Can I ask you something?"

"You're gonna do it anyway." Daryl mumbles back.

Aaron gives a small smile while he picks the meat off the squirrel's bones. "What was she to you?" He stops and looks at Daryl. "I know she's Maggie's sister, she was with your group for a long time, but you don't seem to be as…devastated over Tyreese. Or even your brother."

"My brother's a dick." Daryl lightly sighs. "She's just…" He trails off, not good at words, not sure how he's going to explain it because even he's not really sure. He loves her, he's pretty sure, he's never been in love so he doesn't exactly know how that works, but he was ready to have a future with her at the funeral home, so he supposes that's what love is. "she's home." That's all he can think of, the only way to describe her, when he's with her, he's comfortable, he's fine. She is easily his living room; making him feel alive in a way he's never felt before. She's his kitchen, filling him with warmth and goodness. She's his attic, making him feel high and free. She's his bedroom, making him feel wanted and at ease. And dammit, she's his basement, because as soon as she left him, he's been cold and isolated, damp and disgusting.

Aaron nods. "I understand."

They sit there, eating their squirrel, the only sounds coming from the forest around them.

Daryl takes first watch, mostly because he can't sleep. He probably won't be able to sleep once Aaron wakes up and relieves him from next to the fire. Part of him wants to go off on his own and see if he can find any clues, but he knows if he did, Aaron would get mad at him, and since he's the only person stupid enough to come out here with him, he's stuck. Besides, Aaron is the closest thing he has to a friend right now since everyone at the Safe Zone is doing their own thing. They still care about each other, sure, but Carol is off trying to pull the wool over people's eyes, Rick is trying to bed the wife of the man he just killed not too long ago, and he can't look at Maggie or Glenn without guilt falling over him. Aaron and Eric, right now, are all that he has.

Things have got to change if Beth is alive, if he brings her back to the Safe Zone, they have to.


	4. four

They start their morning at sunrise, which according to Aaron's watch is around 8 a.m., it feels later and earlier at the same time, Daryl's feet are dragging. Much like he thought, he got no sleep last night; every time he closed his eyes he got a birds-eye-view of Beth falling to the ground and his bullet killing Dawn. His body curved over Beth's body, the cries around him, the tears falling on her shirt, darkening the yellow fabric.

"You're slackin'!" Aaron teases as he walks a few steps ahead, turning to walk backward a bit.

"Ain't a mornin' person." Daryl grumbles, taking a bite of the granola bar he packed. He thought they should eat their breakfast as they walked, have more time to search for Beth.

"I know." Aaron smiles before turning back around. "You're always up so early, though."

"Used to it. Morning's the best time to hunt." He decides not to mention that it was also better to be out of William Dixon's house before he woke up from his hangover and attempt to beat the shit out of him.

"Think Merle's gonna come see you today?"

"Doubt it. Said he can't tell me where she is; he's useless." Daryl yawns and takes another bite, this time getting an outrageous amount of sunflower seeds in his mouth.

"Does she know how to take care of herself out here?" Aaron asks a few minutes later. "Maggie said she helped with Judith at the prison."

"Taught her when we were separated from the group. Just with the bow, though. She knows how to use her knife." He then looks down and remembers that he has iher/i knife. He doubts she got anything from those jackasses at Grady, they appeared to be a bunch of selfish pricks. "She can."

Aaron nods. "And you're sure Merle said a red car."

"Yes."

"It's just weird, I haven't seen any out here." He looks over at Daryl. "But she could've driven it up to a house."

"You don't think she's out here. It's fine." Daryl shoves the plastic wrap in the pocket of his bag so Eric could wrap another death bar in when they got back.

"I didn't say that."

"Don't have to."

"I'm out here with you, aren't I?"

Daryl scoffs and keeps walking. This is what he does, pushes people away when they're trying to help. He didn't mean to, it was just like muscle memory at this point. Don't depend on anyone but yourself.

"Daryl—"

"I gotta piss."

Daryl heads into the woods, leaving Aaron out on the road.

It's darker in the woods, thanks to the plush trees. Daryl finds himself a nice one and walks over, unzipping his jeans as he walks.

"Little brother."

Daryl feels his body stiffen. "What Merle?"

"You ain't going fast enough. I told you them biters is hungry, they're waiting for your girl. Got a preference for little blonde things." Merle tells him, leaning against a tree a couple feet up.

"Might go a little quicker if you tell me where she is."

"Told you I can't."

"Why not?" Daryl asks, his voice loud.

"Told you; rules is rules."

Daryl scoffs and zips up his pants, looking away from Merle's direction. "Merle Dixon ain't never been a rule follower."

Merle clenches his jaw. "I'm doing this for you, baby brother. Keep walking."

When Daryl looks up to say something smart back, Merle's gone. Bastard.

"Thanks." Daryl mumbles, just loud enough for Aaron to hear over their boots stomping the pavement and dead leaves. Dixons normally didn't say thank you or please or apologize, but Daryl had learned since his period out with Beth that he's so much more than his last name, and so much more than the connotations that go with it. He'd always be a Dixon by blood, he'd still have that abusive strain running through his veins, but his actual family had shown him that he could be a leader, a provider, a caregiver. And he could say thank you when he meant it, and Aaron being out here with him, leaving his warm house to chase a ghost? That meant so much. Aaron was selfless and an idiot, really.

Aaron looks over and gives him a small smile. "I wouldn't be out here if I didn't want to be."

"Merle can't help us."

"You saw him?"

Daryl nods. "While I was taking a piss. Said something about rules."

"From what you've told me, Merle doesn't sound like someone who obeys authority."

"He don't."

"He tell you anything else?"

"Just to keep walking."

"Helpful."

Daryl stops dead in tracks, reaching his hand out to grab Aaron. Ahead there's a small cluster of walkers heading diagonal across the road, they aren't close enough to hear them or make out how many there are, but they see them clear as day.

"Who knows how many are up there." Aaron says, looking over at Daryl. "That's probably why we haven't seen any, they're all headed that way."

"Let's go around, through the woods."

"You think that's a good idea?" Aaron asks, lump forming in his throat. "They could be coming out that way, too."

"You said I was in charge." Daryl reminds him.

Aaron nods. "I'll never forgive you if you get me killed." He attempts to joke while being scared shitless.

"Chance I'm willing to take."

They make their way through the woods, communicating only with hand signals and watching where they stepped carefully. They hadn't seen any walkers—yet—but they knew they had to be close to the herd.

Aaron holds his hand out to stop Daryl, they stop under a tree, their footing hard in the mix and dirt. "Do you hear that?" His voice is a whisper and he points his finger in the direction.

Daryl perks his ears and listens carefully and hears the quick-paced beat. He knows he's heard it somewhere before, probably in some bar Merle dragged him to. "Let's follow it."

"We're gonna walk right into them." Aaron lets out a breath. "That's probably what's leading them there."

"We would've seen it comin' in, had to have happened today."

"Okay, but if it's bad we leave."

The music gets louder and the lyrics become more apparent. They haven't breached the woods yet, so that have no idea what is making this noise and playing this Godawful music, but something in his gut tells him he's exactly where he's supposed to be right now.

 _We can dance if we want to, we can leave your friends behind. 'Cause your friends don't dance, and if they don't dance, well, they're no friends of mine._

They stomp through more fallen leaves and broken branches, Aaron nearly falling a couple times because of overgrown roots and cans and bottles littering the forest floor.

 _I say, we can go where we want to, a place where they will never find. And we can act like we come from out of this world, leave the real one far behind. And we can dance._

They breach the edge of the forest, thirty walkers surrounding a small church with broken stain glassed windows. There were walkers on the steps, banging against the door, and walkers surrounding a car twenty feet in front of it. The door was open and walkers were pressed against it.

Daryl felt his heart fall. The person in that car was probably dead, eaten by the walkers. But he still couldn't shake that feeling in his gut.

"What do you want to do?" Aaron asks.

"We have to look."

Aaron nods. "You've got eight bolts, and I've got ten bullets in the SIG. Then we're down to knives with the rifle and the glock as backup."

Daryl shrugs off his crossbow before putting its stirrup on the ground and cocking the string back. "Let's go."

They do it—somehow. It takes God knows how long of slashing and shooting and Daryl's nearly winded when he gets to the car to turn this fucking awful music off. He slides in the front seat and first turns the volume knob off, then cuts the engine. Aaron is leaning against the hood of the car, breathing heavily. There's a map on the passenger side, its covered in walker guts, but he picks it up anyway. Whoever was in this car is gone, there's no half-eaten corpse in it.

 _Richmond_ is circled several times.

He feels his breath catch in his throat.

"Daryl."

Daryl looks away from the map and Aaron is now bent down next to the open door, he can just see the top of his hair through the blood covered window. "What?"

"Blood. Human."

Daryl drops the map and climbs out, walking around the door and over to Aaron. "It fresh?"

"Looks like it, it leads to the church." Aaron looks up and directs his attention to the car, he nearly falls over. When he was leaning against it, his eyes were closed, he didn't even noticed the paint job. It's red. Rusted, by red.

Daryl hadn't noticed either, too distracted with the music and trying to get him and Aaron out of Palmer Springs in one piece. He can almost hear Merle's _'Told ya so, little brother_ ' now, but he hadn't found her alive just yet.

"I'm so creeped out right now." Aaron sighs, a chill moving over his body as he stares at the car before making his way behind Daryl to the back of the car. "God, _dammit_ He whispers dammit, because they had made it this far and it wasn't even about to tempt God with ruining their little trip with a random bolt of lightning. "Georgia plate."

Daryl's heart is pounding, he's pretty sure Aaron can hear it. "She could be in there."

"Want me to go first?"

"I gotta." Daryl tells him before following the blood trail through the grass and over walker corpses, then up the stairs. There's a puddle in front of the door. He lets out a small breath before pushing the door open with his free hand, crossbow ready in the other. Aaron came up behind him, lightly touching his back, letting him know he was there. Whatever happens, he was there.


	5. five

The church is dark, thanks to the boards on the windows. Aaron reaches in his backpack and finds his flashlight after a couple seconds, which seemed like forever, of loud shuffling. He clicks the button and shines it in front of Daryl.

On both sides of them as they came through the door were large pews, every other one had a space for a candle three feet above it. Some of them still held half burned candles, but most of them had a pile of wax on the ground in a pile.

Aaron shines the light down the pew on the right first, then the left, keeping the light shining for a couple seconds on each so they can see, make sure nothing is lurking in the shadows.

The pulpit at the end of the aisle way is clear of any adornments, which Daryl thought was kind of strange. Back at Gabriel's church, he had everything laid out like business as usual, ready to start his mass for the day.

Daryl only sees the small bit of white fabric at the front of the chapel when Aaron moves his flashlight quickly, he takes a breath and decides that's it's probably nothing.

They go on checking each pew until they get to the second from the front, the white cloth still driving him crazy and he finds himself looking at it more than looking in the pews. It's definitely lying on something, he's just not sure what.

"We'll check up front now." Aaron whispers from beside him. "You go first."

Daryl nods and heads up to the front of the church, looking at that white fabric, when he sees the outline of a body underneath it, he feels himself step back, a churn in his stomach, his head throbbing. His breath catches in his throat, his bottom lip quivering as he makes his way closer to the body covered in the white cloth, blood, fresh blood, soaking the silk. He takes a few steps and stops, falling to his knees when he sees the blonde curly hair splayed in front of him. He hears Aaron suck in a breath as he crawls closer, moving the face so he can verify what's he's afraid of.

Her skin is so soft, he feels bad even touching it with his calloused hands, he then rolls her head towards him, a loud cry escaping from his lips. It's Beth. The marks on her face from her mistreatment from Grady have healed and scarred, causing small, pink lines on her face.

He hears Aaron walk up behind him, his boots hard on the old wood floors. Daryl feels the tears streaming down his face as he pulls her limp body onto his knees.

Aaron looks like he's seen a ghost, the blood draining from his face. This was so creepy and awful and _sad._ It had to be her, Daryl didn't have to say it, he could tell by his body language, the sounds he made. "Did you check her pulse?" He manages to get out, his throat dry.

Daryl doesn't answer, just continues to hold her in his arms, looking at her peaceful face.

"Daryl, can I touch her?" He had seen enough in his travels to Africa and other countries to know that touching a beloved person, especially one believed to be dead, could cause an uproar. He didn't want to offend Daryl, and he didn't want to be on his bad side.

There's a small nod from Daryl and Aaron kneels down beside him. She's prettier than he imagined, he only heard about her here and there, it was only enough for a rough idea. He grabs her arm and applies two fingers to her wrist, hoping he feels something, anything to let Daryl have her back.

He feels the tiniest of movements, some blood pulsing through her veins. He doesn't tell Daryl and instead moves his fingers to her neck. It's a little stronger, but not a whole lot.

"Daryl, we need to get her back to the RV."

Daryl looks up, his eyes red. "She's alive?"

"I think so."

"What do you mean, _you think?"_ He asks, his tone harsh.

"I'm not a doctor, Daryl. We get her back to the RV where it's safe, take her back home tomorrow."

"Tomorrow?"

"We can't drive at night, you know that."

Daryl stares at Aaron, his eyes burning a hole through Aaron's skin. "If she's alive she needs a doctor."

Aaron lets out a sigh, he couldn't deny Daryl the chance at happiness, it was only three hours. He'd make it work. He had to, this is why he was the one that to come on this trip. The room gets colder, the energy slowly moving out. "I told you, baby brother." Merle hasn't appeared, it's his disembodied voice, and this time, Aaron can hear it, too. "Is that your brother?" Aaron asks quietly.

"Merle, please."

"You gotta get her back to your swanky community, since our good friend Rick decided to murder that doctor in the streets to get some tail, that Cloyd woman will have to do."

"Denise is a good doctor!" Aaron states, defending his friend.

Aaron goes first out of the church, making sure they didn't have another buildup of walkers. The plan was to put Beth in the back of the car then drive back to the RV, set Beth up in the back, pack up, then hit the road.

Daryl held Beth in his arms, he feels like he's out of his body, like he has déjà vu back to the hospital in Atlanta, back to when Dawn shot her, back to when she collapsed on the ground, blood emerging from her head, back to him carrying her out of those doors in this same exact fashion, like a husband packing his bride over the threshold of their home. This time there isn't the somber steps of his family behind him, the sniffles and sobs, Maggie screaming. There's just Aaron clearing out the back seat to lie her down in.


	6. six

There's no question about it, Aaron speeds down the road back to the RV, narrowly missing a brave squirrel who ventured out into the middle of the road. There's soft sobs in the backseat and Aaron doesn't even bother looking in the rearview mirror, he can't have his heartbreak, too. One of them had to get them back to Alexandria.

He pulls up next to the RV, nearly hitting the damn thing, forgetting how brakes work, then cuts the engine quickly. "We'll put her on the bed in the back. You can stay with her, I'll dig the stuff up." Aaron looks at him, a frown on his face. "Hey, Daryl. You need to stay with me, okay? I need you."

Daryl gives him a small nod, his eyes dark as Aaron turns around and lets out a sigh.

"You can do it if you have to, right?" Aaron asks, hoping he didn't have to say 'put her down' out loud to Daryl, who could probably crush his skull without thinking. It was her leg that was bleeding, it wasn't a bite, thankfully, it looked like a bullet wound. Aaron had cleaned and dressed it the best he could with the limited first aid supplies they kept the RV, but he wasn't a doctor. He was hoping there wasn't another critical case back home, because Denise was going to be busy with Beth if they made it.

"Yes." Daryl grits, moving Beth closer to him, her head on his lap.

Aaron knows he's lying. He'd probably let Beth tear him apart before he'd shove his hunting knife through her skull. "Do you need to pee before we leave?" Aaron asks, attempting to get a tiny laugh from Daryl, which doesn't happen.

Aaron decides to leave the music off on the way back home, instead intently listening for any groans or snarls. She can't die. Not when they're this close to having her back. Daryl ineeds/i this, he needs something good in his life. He and Eric could fart around all day, trying to get to him to cheer up, but they were her. They weren't Beth, they weren't even on the same plane as Beth; they were placeholders for the real thing. And here she was, passed out in the back of the RV, presumed dead a couple days ago; shot in the head, left in a hospital stairwell so she wouldn't get torn apart by walkers.

It's so dark. He has his beams on low, not to attract walkers towards the road, and so far it seems to be working. Daryl has a single lantern on in the back, Aaron can see him, just barely from the rearview mirror. He's at the back, his upper body resting against the wall, Beth still lying with her head on his lap, facing outward, towards the front. Her eyes closed, her arms splayed.

"Shit!" Aaron looks in front of him, three walkers meandering towards the RV, their mouths open, hissing. He stomps on the brakes and watches as they bang up against the front of the RV. He wants to call for Daryl, ask him what to do, but he's not leaving Beth back there. They're just going to have to be roadkill, he doesn't have the time to get out and kill them. "Daryl! Hold on!" He presses on the gas and runs them over, their bodies creating speedbumps that made the minute it took to get over them uncomfortable. "The fuck are you doing?" Daryl yells.

"Walkers! I had to run them over!" Aaron yells back, cringing as he makes his way over them, the back of the RV settling back into place.

Daryl mumbles something Aaron can't hear, but Aaron ignores it, deciding it's not worth and it and keeps driving.

Aaron is pretty sure they're close, he's recognizing landmarks along the way. There's a crinkle from beside him, the radios they've been using only had a ten mile radius, they must be getting close. _Aaron, it's getting close to midnight_. It's Eric's voice. _I guess you aren't coming home tonight, I'll try again tomorrow._

Aaron grabs the walkie talkie. _Eric?_

 _You're almost home?_

 _Yeah, I'm guessing about ten minutes away. I need to you to get Denise ready in the infirmary._

 _Are you okay? Is Daryl?_

 _Just get her, Eric. Please. I'll explain everything when we get home._

 _Okay. I'm going now. I love you._

 _I love you, too._

Aaron speeds back to Alexandria, heading in the main gate and not stopping until he gets to the infirmary. Eric is sitting on their porch across the street, wrapped up in a thick blanket. He lets out a breath when he see Deanna standing at the entrance of the infirmary, an unimpressed look on her face with Denise, Rosita, and Maggie standing beside her.

"Daryl, we're here." Aaron cuts the engine and heads back to the bedroom, hoping none of them come on this bus. "Maggie's here." He tells him. "I don't know why, but she is."

Daryl lets out a breath. "You've got to hold her back. She's gonna go crazy."

Aaron helps Daryl set Beth gently on the bed so he can stand and get some feeling back in his legs. "How are we going to do this?" Aaron asks. "And by this I mean stopping Maggie?"

"You'll think of something." Daryl shakes his leg and stretches his fingers. "I'm ready. You're going first."

Daryl picks Beth up in the same bridal carry and turns their bodies to get through the doorways, then follows Aaron down as he opens the door to the RV, getting out and holding it open, trying to block Maggie's view. The last thing they needed was her flipping out. Daryl climbs down the stairs carefully, moving his body once again, Beth's boots going out the door first. He hears it, the gasp from the three women, the catch in Maggie's throat. "Is that—is that?" She breathes, watching as Daryl gets her body out of the door. "Beth." Maggie's voice is just over a whisper, her hand going to her mouth. "We need to get her inside, Denise. We think she's lost a lot of blood, she's not conscious."

They head in, Denise going first, scrabbling, and Deanna after here to hold the door open.

"Daryl put her on the examination table." Denise rushes over and pulls the leg rest out, patting the green vinyl.

Daryl does what he's told, putting Beth's limp body on the table.

"I need space! Rosita, Daryl, Aaron—you stay. Everyone else go in the other room if you absolutely feel like you need to be here." She sighs and starts to cut Beth's jeans off as Deanna and Eric pull Maggie into the sitting room right off the main area. "What happened?" She asks.

"She was shot in the head back in Atlanta." Daryl tells her. "We found her in a church, blood on the ground and a path to where she was in the church."

"We found a wound on her leg—it looks like a bullet hole." Aaron tells her. "I tried to patch it up the best I could but we both know I'm not a doctor."

Denise nods. "Okay, both of you out."

Aaron and Daryl head into the other room.

"Daryl!" Maggie stands up, her lips parted, eyes full of concern. "iHow/i?"

"Just had a feeling." Daryl sighs and falls into the couch.


	7. seven

"Would you like something to drink, Daryl?" Deanna asks walking back through her dining room. "Coffee? Water? Think we've got some apple juice."

"Coffee's fine." Daryl grumbles back, annoyed he has to be here instead of next door waiting for Beth.

"See, this isn't so bad. Just two friends having a chat." She turns around and gives him a comforting smile. "You're not in trouble, Daryl. I promise."

Daryl sinks further into the patterned chair. Secretly, he loved Deanna's house, he loved the townhouse style, and how it was so cozy and warm. Deanna also had a warm presence about her today, it helped a little. He looks at the camera rolling. He doesn't understand why she wants to keep these, is anyone really going to care?

"Cream or sugar?" She asks, her voice carrying through the kitchen and dining room, meeting him in the living room.

"Nah. Black."

"Mmm. I always pegged you for a no frills coffee type." She smiles as she walks back into the room, two mugs of steaming liquid in her both her hands. "I have to have cream and sugar in mine, too bitter without it." She sets the polka dotted mug down on the coaster, then settles herself into the plush, leather couch. "Like I told you, you aren't in trouble. But, we do have rules here for a reason, Daryl. So when the rule is 'check with Deanna before leaving for more than a day', there's a reason why I want you to do it, because I'm responsible for you. And if something were to happen to you out there, we wouldn't know where to look for you."

"Ain't a kid, I can take care of myself." Daryl grabs the mug and takes a sip. "Hope Aaron ain't in trouble."

She shakes her head. "I thought about giving you two a strong talking to, but I have—had two boys, I know they don't listen." She smiles wistfully, thinking about her boys when they were younger. "And I can't be mad. You saved Beth." She lets out a small chuckle. "You know, I went back and watched yours, Maggie's, Rick's, and Glenn's tapes last night after I left the infirmary."

"It put you to sleep?"

She shakes her head, a small smirk on her face. "You don't get much sleep when you're a widow, Daryl."

Daryl stays quiet, staring at her, secretly understanding.

"I had to be sure I wasn't imaging that you four told me she was dead. Maggie told me she had lost her sister a couple weeks before Aaron found you, Glenn went into a little more detail, saying that she was shot at a hospital in Atlanta trying to saving Noah. Rick alluding to the same as Glenn, and you said she was gone. I know other people have talked about her—Sasha, Noah, Carl. But you four, you were the closest to her, weren't you?" She asks. "Maggie being her sister, I know how sisters are, I had two. Every morning was a battle, but by lunch rolled around we were fine. I know what it's like to have a sister-in-law, it's like adding another person to your heart. Rick's your leader, he was obviously fond of her. But I haven't quite figured you out yet, Daryl. Seems to be a running theme between you and I, huh?" She asks with a laugh, stopping to take a drink of her coffee.

"Guess so." Daryl runs his palm against his jeans.

"You don't get much sleep either, do you?"

Daryl shakes his head and looks down, he knows that feeling. While he's not exactly a widow, Beth was never his wife or his anything, he still knows.

She lets out a sigh, slightly understanding. "I thought about not asking you this because I'm sure it's painful for you, but, I'm a nosy old woman as Spencer so nicely puts it, so I'm going to ask you. Why did you go looking for a dead girl?"

He lifts his eyes to meet hers, staying quiet, still.

"I know you didn't go to Atlanta, Eric crumbled under the pressure within in an hour of you two leaving. Palmer Springs, right?"

A small nod from Daryl.

"You might be the person to change my minds on psychics, Daryl."

"Ain't no psychic." Daryl grabs his mug and takes another drink, savoring the slight pain of the hot liquid moving down his throat. "Turn the camera off and I'll tell you."

"Daryl I th—"

"It goes off or I ain't telling you."

She sets her mug down and reaches backward, clicking the off button and closing the viewfinder. "You drive a hard bargain."

"Merle told me where she was."

"Merle?" Deanna's brow furrows. "Your brother…who is dead?"

He nods. "Came to me the other night, told me where she was."

Deanna's lips part like she's going to say something, but instead she raises her own mug to her lips, squinting her eyes a little.

"You think I'm nuts."

"No." Deanna sighs. "I'm just a little confused, is all."

Maggie traces the outline of the small cuts on her sister's hand. She hasn't left this building since Daryl brought her back, how could she? She already left her twice, she's not doing it again. Denise had said that there wasn't much she could do since they didn't have the functions of a big hospital, all they could do was wait to see if she woke up. The door opens, but Maggie doesn't turn away from her sister, instead continues look at her battle worn face and hold her warm hand in hers.

The door closes and there's heavy boots across the floor. "Mind if I sit?" It's Daryl, she can tell from presence alone.

"Of course, Daryl." She looks up briefly, giving him a small smile.

Daryl wheels the chair from Denise's desk over and plops down, watching Maggie's fingers trace her sister's. "Any change?"

She shakes her head. "No, I thought I saw her eyes flutter, but I think I was imagining it."

"If anyone can do it, it's her."

"I know." She looks over at him, his tired, concerned face. His eyes dark. "Thank you, Daryl. No matter what."

He nods. He'd do it a hundred times over.

"Sometimes I think it's my fault." She takes a deep breath. "Looking for Glenn instead of her, I know it's silly; ridiculous, I couldn't have done anything more than you did. What happened, happened. I don't know why, I'll never know why she did the things she did or why it was her and not one of us. Why I went off with Abraham. Maybe if I was there she wo—."

"Can't think like that." Daryl cuts her off. "All that matters is she's here, safe. We're starting over, Terminus, Grady, the Prison—none of that matters anyhow. We're here, together. Everyone is where they're supposed to be."

She nods and gives him another small smile. "Now we wait."

Daryl wanders across the street to Aaron and Eric's around midnight, his body sore. He wanted to stay longer, but he knew that wasn't really an option. Denise was starting to hover, which usually meant everyone needed to leave, except Maggie, and Glenn who might stop by later.

Eric's sitting at the kitchen table, a crossword puzzle sitting in front of him. "You look tired." He frowns a little, settling his pencil down.

"Am."

"She okay?"

"Don't know. Denise said she wasn't sure, can't x-ray her or something. Bullet wound's taken care of."

"That's one thing out of the way." He nods, letting out a sigh. "Why don't you get some sleep? You look terrible."

Daryl lets out his own version of a chuckle. "Thanks."


	8. eight

It'd been a week and Daryl wasn't sure he could take being within the confines of Reg's great wall any longer. Maybe if he wasn't waiting on Beth, maybe if he wasn't worried out of his mind, maybe if Aaron and Eric weren't so fucking obnoxious with their being in love. He makes his way across the street to Deanna's, passing the infirmary. He can see the outline of Maggie and Denise in the window, but he keeps walking.

He knocks on Deanna's door, waiting in the cold, Olivia had said it was November, or close to it, and he could definitely feel it in his bones.

"Daryl?" She smiles after she opens the door. "Do you need something?"

He shakes his head. "Just wanted to tell you I'm goin' huntin'." He wasn't trying to get on Deanna's bad side, the conversation he had with her about Merle and Beth and Palmer Springs was more than enough.

She nods. "Oh, okay. I hope you find something good. Thanks for telling me."

With a nod of his head he spins on his heel and makes his way down the steps. Finally he was getting out.

Maggie had made herself at home in the infirmary in the week since Beth came back to her. She and Denise had moved the second single bed they kept in the back room to the main area so she could sleep next to Beth in case she woke up. Glenn had started to bring lunch and dinner over and they would eat together at the counter, then they'd both go back to work. Glenn looking through phone books for places they could hit up for supplies, and Maggie going over papers that Deanna had given her.

Nearly everyone from their group had stopped by to check on Beth, most of them speechless as they looked at her tired body. Michonne stayed for a couple hours, holding Beth's hand, wishing for a recovery. Rick, Carl, and Judith came by after, confusion and sadness on their faces as Maggie filled them in on what had happened. Sasha didn't come, Maggie understood. Carol came by with a snack for Maggie, her compassionate and motherly façade cracking to reveal the truth below it for Beth, for Maggie. Abraham, Tara, and Eugene stopped by after their respective work duties and Maggie lamented on her and Beth's childhood, her eyes filling with delight as she told them about her daddy's farm; their history.

The Alexandrians kept their distance, mostly. Aaron and Eric came over with dinner one night for anyone who happened to stop by. Jessie and her kids made a really lovely card, and Deanna popped in once a day for a status report and make sure Maggie was okay.

Maggie sits at Denise's desk, flipping through the various reports Deanna had given her. Supplies, job duties, expansion notes. It was not what she thought her job was going to be when she signed up to be Deanna's assistant, but it allowed her to get her mind of the possibilities surrounding Beth.

There's a sigh from Beth's bed, and Maggie is up almost immediately, quickly making her way to the hideous green chair and grabbing her sister's hand. "Bethie?" She strokes her hair, it's greasiness slick under her fingers. "Beth, it's okay." She whispers. "Do what you have to do, I understand. We all do."

Beth's eyelids twitch, slightly opening as she pushes back into the pillow, the light nearly blinding her.

"Beth?" Maggie breathes, happiness and disbelief dancing on her tongue as Beth opens her eyes fully, then goes back to squinting, before turning to her sister. Beth coughs, then moves her tongue around in her mouth, attempting to wet it. Maggie grabs her glass of water from the side table. "Do you need a drink?" Beth nods and Maggie holds the glass to her sister's lips, tilting it slightly to allow a small amount of water past her dry lips.

Maggie brings the glass back and watches as Beth swallows, a confused look forming on her face. "Are you dead?" She asks, her voice just above a whisper.

"No, Bethie. Neither are you." Maggie smiles, setting the glass down. "Daryl saved you. You were in a church or something. I don't remember, he won't talk about it—how he found you."

"Daryl?" She asks, her eyes heavy, her voice light. She's so weak, so exhausted, but she musters the smallest of smiles at the thought of Daryl. She's having a hard time remembering things. She knows who Maggie is, who Daryl is. There's a baby, she knows, somewhere. She faintly heard it getting fussy when she was passed out. Men talking, a woman poking and prodding her. Her mom is dead. Her brother is dead. Her home is gone. Her dad is dead. There was a hospital, a doctor, a police officer. Rick. Tyreese. Carol. Noah. She closes her eyes, the light from the ceiling too much for her. Her throat's dry again, her leg is throbbing. She feels disgusting. She's hungry. She's exhausted. She's confused.

"He's been coming to see you. Mostly just sits there; quiet." Maggie tells her, looking at her sister's scared face, the bags under her eyes. "You know how he is." She grabs her sister's hand. "After everything happened at the prison, Glenn found Abraham, Eugene, Rosita, and Tara. And we were headed toward Washington, Eugene said he had a cure. That's why I wasn't at the hospital, Beth. Abraham wanted to go right then, Daryl and Carol had disappeared, it was a weird time. Rick and them wanted to wait for Daryl and Carol to come back, then they'd join us, but then ended up finding you. I didn't know until after." Beth opens her eyes and Maggie stops, carefully picking which details to leave out until Beth could handle it—if she ever could. "When we got there Daryl was already coming down the stairs with you. A lot of things happened. I didn't want to leave you."

Beth nods. "Can we talk about this later?"

"Of course, I'm sorry. I've been telling you over and over since you got here. I don't know what to say, I'm not quite sure if I really believe this is all happening."

They settle into a peaceful silence, enjoying each other's company. Finally. It'd be so long, too long.


	9. nine

It'd been five days since Aaron came busting into the garage screaming excitedly about how Beth had woken up. It caused Daryl to cut his hand on the engine of his bike, which caused Aaron to scream more, yelling for Eric to get the first aid kit. With blood dripping down his hand and pooling on the ground just in front of his boot, a look of relief poured over his face. Eric rushed him inside, a towel wrapped around his hand and ran it under the sink—the cool water sending a shiver down his spine.

He still hadn't seen her—at least not in person. He pulled himself from bed the second night and tip toed down the stairs and outside, silently shutting the door behind him before making his way across the street hoping Rick wasn't out on patrol. He looked through the window at her tired form, Denise telling her something as cleaned the dressing on her leg. He wanted to know what happened—but that would involve talking to her and he wasn't quite sure he was ready for that. Something about going into her place of healing after everything that happened didn't seem right. He left her there in that hospital, he didn't try hard enough.

Waiting at her bedside when she wasn't awake to look at him with those big blue eyes was one thing—trying to form sentences and answering questions was another.

The fourth day Carol came over to his garage—inviting herself in with a tray of something covered in foil, her false smile turning into a stern look of displeasure as soon as she shut the door to the garage. "Why haven't you gone and seen her?" She asks, setting the tray down with a thud on top of his wrenches. "She's been asking for you."

Daryl shrugs. "What did you bring?"

"It's not ifor you./i It's for Beth."

"Why'd you bring 'em over here then?"

"Come with me, she wants to see you. Why are you being so…Daryl? You risked your life to find her, you sat with her nearly every day while she was knocked out. Why is it different?" She asks, crossing her arms, attempting to warm herself in the cold garage.

"She don't need me there." He grabs a wrench from under Carol's dish, he didn't need it, but maybe it would get her to catch the hint.

"She's been asking for you." She repeats. "Five minutes."

Daryl ignores her, pretending to tighten a bolt on his engine—he can still see the small droplets of blood on it. It's not that he didn't want to see her—because he did, so badly, but he didn't think he should be there—not yet—not until she's able.

"I just don't understand you." She sighs and grabs her tray.

Day five. Daryl quickly bypasses Aaron and Eric in the kitchen and makes his way to the garage. Eric attempts to stop him and tell him breakfast is ready—but Daryl just closes the door a little harder than necessary. He didn't have much else to work on. In the time that Beth had woken up, he'd fixed nearly everything on his bike that was remotely in need of fixing. The lights on the back were wired up, he had made the rack for his bow a little tighter and snugger so it wouldn't fall off if he needed to haul ass. Now all he could do was sit and avoid everyone. He was sure he was going to get a visit from Aaron at any point in time now.

There's the faint sound of tools moving across the garage, his back is turned as he wipes the excess lubricant off his tools. "Baby brother." Fuck. He had forgotten that Merle decided to grace the earth with his presence once again. "Lil birdie's been tellin' me you haven't gone and seen that lil songbird across the street."

Daryl ignores him, hoping he'll go away on his own.

"She's been asking for ya, think she's sweet on you. Don't know why, you always were the least attractive of the two'a us." Merle snickers, picking up a hammer on the bench across the garage. "Don't know why you're stayin' in here, riskin' your life all those times for that girl and you won't even go see her now that she's here. Always knew you weren't the perkiest of tits, but damn lil brother."

"She don't need me there."

"Don't matter if she needs ya, she wants ya. Girls get all emotional about shit like that—take it from me."

"Because banging two heroin addicts makes you an expert on women." Daryl scoffs, turning around to look at his brother. "I forgot."

Merle smiles that 'you're so dead' smile of his and sets the hammer down. "I don't know you've been payin' attention to the world Daryl, but I'm dead." Merle shrugs. "She could'a been dead too—but she ain't. Burning your hand an' shit because you," He pouts out his bottom lip and brings his fists to his eyes, pretending to rub them as he makes his voice high. "missed her so much—"

"Shut up!" Daryl yells. "Why do even bother? Ain't never gave a shit about me—now you come in here to makin' fun like it's a big ol' joke. It ain't funny."

There's a knock on the door before it quietly opens. "Daryl?" Aaron steps into view. Merle is gone. "Are you okay? I heard yelling."

"'m fine."

"Eric and I were going to take some dinner over to Maggie and Beth, do you want to come?" Aaron bites his lip, leaning against the open door.

"I got stuff to do."

"Oh, okay." Aaron sighs. "I don't know when we'll be back, we left some out on the counter for you if you get hungry."

"Thanks mom." Daryl grumbles.

On day seven Daryl decided it was now or never. The sky had just started to get dark, he had had his fill of rabbit chili and maybe a dash or two of whiskey he found in Aaron and Eric's cabinets. He grabbed his jacket from the hook and walked out the door, the front of the infirmary looming in front of him. He took a breath and made his way down the stairs, pushing himself along the pavement and onto the brick pathway. The wooden door daring him to come up on the porch, and since he wasn't a wuss, he took a step, his boots heavy on the wood. He could see Denise sitting at her desk inside the infirmary, stacks of books nearly blocking her from his view.

He knocks once and she looks over, a smile forming on her face as she gets up and crosses the length to get the door. "Thanks for finally coming." She teases after she opens it just enough for him to slip through, not wanting to let the heat out. "She's with Maggie in the bathroom, she's going to be so happy to see you."


	10. ten

Beth loved her sister dearly, and was so thankful to be back home with her—but there were times when she was just itoo/i much. It always came across rather fake. Not that she didn't mean her care and love, it just came a little too late, after the damage was done. Beth had heard up and down how Maggie imeant/i to look for her after the prison fell, she just got wrapped up in Glenn. He was still sick, after all. Beth could handle her own. Beth understood, to an extent. A husband is different than a sister, it's a tough choice, and Beth wouldn't want to be the one that made it. She heard about the Washington thing, why they had to stay. She didn't go into detail other than there was a ibad group/i and Rick wanted to take care of them and Abraham didn't. Daryl and Carol had already snuck off to follow the car with the cross. By the time they came with news of Beth's survival it was too late.

She got it.

She understood.

But that didn't make it A-Okay, either.

While she could put putting Glenn first aside for the sake of it being her husband, she couldn't exactly get around Maggie putting four complete strangers in front of her, forgoing her search, leaving her alone in Atlanta without even looking. Not when Daryl risked life and limb just because he saw a car with a cross.

"Maggie!" Beth sighs, pushing the pair of sweatpants down on her legs, looking over at her sister. "I can go to the bathroom myself."

"Bethie—"

"Seriously! I was shot in the leg, I can sit on a toilet and do my business. iPlease/i." She shoots her sister a pleading look. She needed to do this on her own.

"Fine." Maggie opens the bathroom door and steps out into the hallway, annoyed that her sister didn't want to be coddled. "I'll be here when you need help."

Beth rolls her eyes and sits on the toilet, thankful to have some peace for once. If it wasn't Maggie trying to help her with every little thing, it was Denise freaking out about something, or someone dropping in. She didn't mind the company, there was only so many conversations she could have with Maggie alone before she pulled her hair out, but it never who she wanted it to be. She asked every single person who came through her door if they had seen Daryl. Usually they answered yes, but he was doing something else, something important. She was beginning to think maybe they were lying to her and he wasn't around anymore. Maybe he took off or maybe he was dead. She had no idea what was going on outside the walls except winter was moving in quickly. Everything was hush-hush—don't let Beth hear you talking about plans, don't let Beth do this on her own, don't let Beth know you're talking about her. It never ended.

She knew Daryl came to see her when she was passed out, why he never made the journey over when she awoke, she didn't understand.

After all he did—why was it different now?

Beth often thought back to the funeral home—the last few moments they had together, that look in his eye when she asked him what changed his mind. He wasn't the same Daryl that led her out of the crumbling ashes of the prison—no, he was different. Changed. Somehow. She wondered what he was going to say, what he was going to do. The thoughts of that night were some of the only things keeping her going at Grady—the chance to possibly see him again. She knew she'd make her way back to her family—she always did. When her family farm went up in flames and she was in that car with Lori and T-Dog, the two of them bickering, loud in her ears—the thought of Patricia being ripped out of her arms. She yearned for her father, for her sister. This time she yearned for someone else—someone unexpected. But unlike her father and sister; he never came.

Why she fucked it up with those scissors was something that she couldn't even explain. He was there. He saved her.

But she couldn't let Noah stay.

A knock on the door brings her from her thoughts. "Bethie—you okay?"

"I'm fine—almost done."

She grabs the roll of toilet paper and pulls some off, folding it over gently.

The mood in the infirmary was a weird one, Daryl standing awkwardly next to Denise's desk, the inventory list catching his eye; a bunch of words he couldn't pronounce neatly printed in front of a number. Denise moved swiftly around the room, placing things back in their homes, obviously getting ready to leave for the night. He looks over at the door, thinking about bailing before Beth comes back out, but he knows damn well if he doesn't see her now—he never will. The rest of his life will be spent avoiding her gaze.

"Maggie—I can do it." Beth whines from the hallway. Daryl's heart beats a little quicker with anticipation. It's been so long since he heard her voice say something different than 'I get it now', something innocent, something pure.

"You were shot Beth, you need something to hold on to while you walk." Maggie snaps back.

Daryl imagines this is what Hershel went through on a daily basis with his daughters; the constant bickering. He knows damn well he and Merle fought like cats and dogs when it was safe. Will Dixon didn't like noise, so the minute they made a sound louder than a whisper it was game over and the belt came off. It seems like a lifetime ago now, when the walls went up to protect himself, they were now down. Beth finishing the job Rick Grimes started on their way back from Atlanta without Merle in tow.

The footsteps get closer and soon Maggie and Beth appear at the end of the hallway, Beth leaning on her sister as they start to make their way towards the bed.

Beth looks up, her features turning from parted lips and a furrowed brow to a warm smile and wide eyes when she sees him standing there. "Daryl?" She asks, allowing her arm to fall from Maggie's shoulders. "You finally came."

He nods, bringing his thumbnail to his mouth.

Maggie's eyes glisten—a silent thank you. "Let's get you into bed, okay?" She looks at her sister's shining face.

Beth nods, still looking at Daryl as Maggie helps her the few feet into her bed, pulling the blanket over her legs. Maggie rushes off to the kitchen, Daryl remaining behind the desk.

"Sit down, silly." Beth smiles pointing to the chair next to the bed. "I've been waiting for you."

Daryl slowly makes his way over to the green-ish chair and eases himself into it, looking at her. She had a long scar on her forehead, a shade or two darker than her skin tone. It matched the one on her opposite cheek. He wants to know how she got them—why she got them. He tries not to look at the small circle on her forehead, that painful reminder of the worst day of his life, when he thought she was gone forever.

Maggie returns with a glass of water. "Bethie, I'm going to go see Glenn for a bit since you have company, okay?"

Beth nods, silently thankful for a break from her overwhelming presence. "I told you—you can sleep there. Denise is right down the hall."

She shoots her sister a look before grabbing her jacket from the hook. "I'll be back in an hour."

Daryl and Beth sit in silence until Maggie closes the door behind her and Denise announces that she's going to go get ready for bed, but if they needed her to not hesitate coming to get her from her room. When the sound of a door clicking is heard Beth lets out a small sigh. "Finally. I haven't had a moment alone since I woke up."

"You want me to leave?" Daryl asks, secretly hoping she'll say yes.

"No." She smiles, grabbing her glass of water from the bedside table. "I told you that I've been waiting. You're not going to get away that easily."

"Maggie's a bit much?" He asks, knowing full well that she is.

Beth nods and sucks some water through her blue straw. "She never leaves me alone, I'm actually surprised she's going to see Glenn. Guess she figures you can protect me."

"Ain't much to protect you from." Daryl slides down in the chair. "'Cept maybe Aaron's chili."

A small giggle erupts from Beth's lips. "I've had it. It's very…strong."

They fall into a silence, Beth watching Daryl squirm a little under the quietness, his gaze meeting everything but her. It's different this time, a less mean version of the first time she met him back at the farm. He didn't talk then either.

Daryl wanted to ask her what happened, how she ended up getting shot in the leg, but he doesn't ask. He's sure he'll get the rundown from Carol who had no qualms about asking the iimportant/i questions.

Everyone had changed since the prison; whether that was good or bad he couldn't tell.

"You see Judith?"

Beth nods excitedly. "She's getting so big. I was afraid she didn't make it out of the prison—but here she is. Big and healthy as ever."

"Carol had her. Tyreese, too."

"Tyreese didn't make it."

Daryl shakes his head.

"Or Noah. Because of someone else, Nick…right? Maggie's been slowly filling me in."

"Yeah." Daryl nods. "Glenn got him pretty good."

"Is Nick dead?"

"No."

"He should be."

Daryl's a little taken back by her answer, he always suspected her to be a little Hershel, a little Dale. Don't hurt people, don't kill them. Maybe Grady changed her mind. Or maybe it was that Noah meant so much to her. "I know."

"Maggie told me you've been staying with Aaron and Eric." A smile returns to her face, drifting away from the thought of Nick and Noah.

He nods.

"Don't like bunking with Rick?"

A small, barely noticeable grin comes to Daryl's face. "Nah. He snores."

"That's not true."

"Bike is at Aaron and Eric's, makes more sense."

"You got a new bike?" She asks.

He nods. "Custom. Aaron found all the parts, let me build it so I could go out with him to find new people."

"That's good." She smiles. "Maybe once I get out of here I can come see it?"

"If you want. Ain't much to see."

"Anything is better than these walls, Daryl." She sighs. "I've got the window, sometimes I'll see people pass. I have no idea who they are, though. Aaron and Eric, I know them. Deanna, too. But there's a whole other group of people that are brand new. Maggie said they lived here before? Got real lucky not having to live outside the walls."

"Yeah. Most of 'em ain't never seen a walker."

"That's scary." Beth moves her leg and winces at the pain.

"You alright?" He asks, moving up in his chair, ready to try and help.

She nods. "Yeah, it still hurts sometimes. I got shot at trying to steal some supplies about fifteen miles before the place you found me. I made a wrong turn on interstate….eighty three? Eighty five. I can't remember. I had to stay overnight, find some food. Unfortunately for me another group wanted the same supplies I did. All I had was six bullets, obviously they had more. I managed to get out and find the car—I didn't last though. Losing too much blood so I turned off and of course there was a pack of walkers up ahead. I sped to the church, turned the radio up to the lure them in and made it inside just before they turned the corner. Then I passed out. And you found me."

The front door opens and Maggie appears, her jacket wrapped tightly around her. "It's getting cold out there, Bethie. I'm going to go get you another blanket from the closet." She walks over to her sister and pats her foot before heading down the hallway.

"Guess I should get goin'."

Beth frowns. "I guess so." She watches as Daryl gets up. "Will you come see me tomorrow?"

"Bikes done, guess so."

"Good. I missed you, Daryl Dixon."

Daryl nods as he slowly walks away from the bed. He missed her, too.


	11. eleven

It'd been two more weeks of remaining inside the infirmary, only getting to see bits and pieces of her new home through windows and open doors. Three days ago a trickle of snow fell from the sky and Beth quickly made her way to the window to look out, to see the flurries for herself. Her days had been spent learning how to walk without the assistance of Maggie or a walker—and truthfully, she was doing fine. She occasionally lost her balance and had to grab onto the nearest object to steady herself, but she didn't let it discourage her, instead she laughed it off and kept going if she was able. The chance to get outside in a new state, in a new neighborhood, and the ability to be a little more independent motivated her. That and the visits every other day from Daryl. Usually he brought a meal from the Raleigh's kitchen with him and they'd sit at the stools and eat together, Beth trying not to let her excitement and weak equilibrium to cause her to fall from the stool.

She had a meeting with Deanna later, an interview, as she called it. Beth was nervous, talking about her experience was nerve wracking and left her stomach feeling a bit tipsy. She hadn't even told Maggie what it was like at the hospital—not yet, anyway. The way they treated her, the battles with Dawn, the experiences with Gorman, and how they left her sick to her stomach and heart broken. She didn't tell her about Shepard or McGinley and how they helped save her. She didn't tell Maggie about the trepidation she felt leaving the hospital, even though she knew she had to find her, find Daryl. She hadn't revealed anything about getting shot in the leg to anyone but Daryl and something told her he'd understand more than Deanna would.

Maggie led her around the complex, showing her where everyone lived. Beth longed to go inside the home that Glenn and Maggie called their own with their roommates Eugene, Rosita, Tara, and Abraham. The people that she left with in favor of looking for her sister. She wanted to know them, she knew Rosita fairly well, as Rosita had become a helper in the infirmary, same with Tara, wandering in and out to see Denise on occasion, sometimes Eugene would follow, but he never said much, instead stood in the corner like some lost puppy waiting to be told what to do next. He seemed nice enough, smart, according to the stories she heard about the lies he told and the things he could actually do—fixing the solar panels, wiring things up, a learner. But she hadn't met Abraham, at least not in person. She was told bits and pieces, given an image in her head of what he looked like by Rosita—strong, red haired, loud. A perfect date for the end of the world, someone to watch your back, keep your ass in gear.

She had one of those at one point, when it was just her and Daryl against the world. No family, no prison, no supplies. For a while he made her keep going, teaching her how to track, which berries to eat. And she valued that knowledge when she ended up back in Atlanta and had to go off on her own, to find him.

The home that the Grimes and Michonne and Carol and Sasha lived in was next door, similar in size—a gorgeous home. She wanted to see it all, see the home that Judith deserved. She still can't believe Judith made it, how she got away from the kids on the bus; that was her job and in the wake of war, it didn't end well. Away from her family, watching her father die, she messed up, ended up missing the connection somewhere.

Finally, they arrived at Deanna's home, a towering set of townhouses that sat behind the infirmary building, after their tour of the neighborhood. It was truly remarkable that they kept this place safe for this long—they had a prison before, with huge fences and thick walls and that still ended up getting overrun. Sure the walkers had help, but Beth knew now that if the Governor hadn't come along, those walkers still would've gotten that fence down.

Maggie assisted her sister up the steps, Beth slowly inching her way up, trying not to let the pain bother her. She knew it had been six hours since her last pill, as she had this same pain yesterday. She and Denise had decided to start weening her off of them, trying to conserve what they had. Beth understood, but she didn't know she would be walking up the steepest set of steps that existed in all of Alexandria when she made that agreement.

"Wait there." Maggie states once the two of them are up the steps and she heads to the door, jiggling the doorknob—locked. "She knows your appointment is today." Maggie sighs.

"I'll see if the backdoor is open."

Beth nods and watches her sister bounce down the stairs, shoving her cold hands in her pockets as she goes around the side yard to the back. She brings her own arms across her chest, the lack of movement starting to chill her body. She hadn't yet been armed with a warm winter coat like Maggie had gotten, not wanting to clutter up the clinic with objects of no use to her yet. She lets out a sigh as the familiar sight of Daryl comes into her view, bow slung over his shoulder and a string of squirrels hanging next to it.

"Daryl!" She removes one arm and waves at him, hoping to catch his attention.

He looks up, squinting in her direction. "They let you out?"

She nods, a smile forming on her face. "Interview with Deanna, remember?"

With a nod he stops in front the house. "Why ain't you inside?"

"Doors locked, Maggie went to check the back."

Daryl climbs the steps with ease, shrugging his bow and haul of squirrels off. "No coat?" He lets the objects clatter to the floor, then shakes his jean jacket off. "Thought Jessie would've brought one over by now."

"Nope, I don't think anyone knows I'm out yet; figure I don't need one."

He hands his jacket over, slightly reluctantly. "Gonna need that back."

She nods, letting out a small laugh. "Eventually." She quickly puts it on, breathing in the smell of the woods from just beyond the fences, mixed with Daryl's mixture of sweat and the faintest smell of body wash from many weeks ago. "You usually catch four?" She asks, looking down at the mess of animal carcasses on Deanna's porch.

"Depends. Ain't much out now—too cold."

Beth goes to say something, but is interrupted by Deanna's door opening. "I'm so sorry, Beth." Deanna lets out a laugh. "I didn't hear my timer go off."

"It's okay, Deanna." Beth smiles at her.

"If you're ready to start your interview now, you can come in."

Beth nods. "I'll see you tomorrow, Daryl?"

Daryl nods and collects his bow and squirrels from the ground. "I'll stop by."


	12. twelve

Beth pulls Daryl's jacket a little closer on her frame, over the past nine days it'd gotten colder in Alexandria, the eastern weather tearing into her in a way she hadn't experienced before. "You doing okay?" Maggie looks over at her sister, concern washing over her face. "We can head back if you want."

"I can do it."

Maggie nods, knowing she's been overbearing on Beth, a causality of guilt. "Glenn and me cleared out some drawers in our room, he's gonna take a night wall shift so you can stay in our room."

Beth scrunches up her nose, the thought of sleeping her and Glenn's bed wasn't exactly high on her list of desirable places. "I thought I was taking Noah's old room."

"You will, eventually." Maggie assures her. "Glenn and me are on the first floor, the bathroom's close. I can keep an eye on you."

"I can do it." Beth repeats. "I've made it this far without your help."

"Is that what this is about?" Maggie asks, stopping in the street, grabbing her sister's denim clad arm, pulling her back. "If you're still upset about—"

"I didn't mean it that way." She did. She just couldn't bring herself to tell Maggie the truth, that she was upset about her choice, about leaving her three times. She thought she was over it, that she had moved on, but the fact was, Maggie put people before her time and time again only to be sickeningly sweet when something happened and she felt guilty.

"Bethie."

"It's cold, can we just go back to the infirmary?"

"I am getting out of here tomorrow, right?" Beth asks as she scoops a pile of pills into the jar. Fifty four. That's all the pain killers they had left. She erases the previous number of sixty and scribbles a 54 in its place. Since she's up and walking, functioning like the person she once was, Denise had put her to work at Beth's request. She needed to do something, lying in that bed all day was getting really old, really quick.

"As long as nothing happens between now and morning, you're gone." Denise smiles and picks up the bottle to place it back in the cabinet. "Rosita's folding linens in the office so I'm going to go to bed."

Beth nods. "I'll probably be right behind you."

"Night, see you tomorrow." Denise waves as she heads towards the hallway to go upstairs.

Beth waits a moment before heading down the same hallway, stopping at the archway to the small office that had been converted to a storage room for linens and extra medical supplies. Rosita is sitting on the extra twin bed that's stored back there until they need it, a heaping pile of sheets and cloth bandages next to her. "Need some help?" Beth asks, tapping her fingers against the wooden frame.

Rosita looks up, a smile on her face. "That'd be great, actually, might make it home at a reasonable hour."

With a nod, Beth steps inside the room and makes her way to the bed, sitting on the other side of the basket and grabbing a towel out.

"I heard you were moving in tomorrow." Rosita sets a folded sheet beside her. "Taking Noah's old room?" She bites her lip, looking away.

"I was, yeah."

"Was?"

"Maggie is making me sleep in her and Glenn's room until she deems I'm allowed to sleep on my own."

"She's just worried about you, doesn't want to let you go."

Beth wants to laugh at the irony, Maggie had let her go before, why was this time different? "Guess so."

Rosita looks at her, sensing the feelings Beth had towards Maggie, the disappointment. "She didn't think you were coming back." She tells her, grabbing a washcloth and lying it in her lap. "She didn't know Daryl and Carol had gone to look for you, she was under the impression they got snatched by those psychos at Terminus." Rosita pauses for a minute, watching Beth fold the towel, hoping she's listening. "If she'd known she wouldn't have gone with us, she'd be right there with them."

Beth knows it's true, had Maggie known Daryl and Carol were going to look for her, she would've stayed, but that doesn't change the fact that before the ill-fated Washington trip, Maggie didn't bother.


	13. thirteen

"I heard Beth is moving back home today." Aaron looks down at Daryl, extending his hand to take the license plate from him. Aaron had begged and begged Daryl to help him put the remaining plates on the wall to surprise Eric, it almost being their anniversary or something. Daryl agreed, only because he didn't have a way to get out of it this time. Bike's finished, his jacket in Beth's custody, bad weather moving in, he had no choice but to remain inside the walls of the safe zone, and Aaron was a hard person to evade.

Daryl nods, placing the plate in his hand.

"It's good she made a quick recovery." Aaron hangs the plate from the perfectly spaced nails with a smile.

"Month and a half ain't exactly quick."

"Considering the position we're in, I'd say it's quick." Aaron turns around and looks at him, pointing to the green plate in the line-up of three. "New Hampshire."

Daryl hands it over. "Guess so."

"Thought you'd be more excited."

He was as excited as a Dixon could be, he guessed. Beth was safe, she was in the group's care. She wouldn't be leaving them anytime soon. It was a huge, and unbelievable, accomplishment. In the pit of his stomach, an unfamiliar feeling of pride formed, something he hadn't known before, a side effect of knowing Beth Greene was knowing a slew of new emotions you didn't even know you could feel.

"But you are Daryl Dixon, so I guess a higher pitched grunt is all I'm going to get out of you." Aaron teases, placing the plate below the first one. "How's it look?"

"Like you got plates on the wall."

"I mean does it look good; you think Eric's gonna like it?"

"Guess so."

Aaron lets out a small sigh before climbing off the ladder. "I'll go get him, you mind putting that ladder back in the garage?"

Daryl nods, anything to get out of this situation. He really didn't want to be in here when Eric undoubtedly started crying.

"Thanks for your help." Aaron smiles before heading to the hallway, patting Daryl's shoulder as he goes. Daryl sighs, lifting the tabs on the supports of the old ladder to fold it up. He hears Aaron jog up the steps, his steps a lot quieter than his own. He picks up the ladder and heads to the office to make his way in the garage. He somehow maneuvers the ladder into his right arm so he can open the door with his right, huffing as he makes his way into the garage. He was happy. As happy as a Dixon could be, Beth was going home, it was almost normal again, almost like she hadn't been taken, like he had been complete all these months.

"Jessie sent over some things." Maggie smiles, setting the basket down on the bed she now shared with Beth. "Some cute stuff, might be borrowing it." She lifts a white t-shirt out of the basket, it's covered in little blue hearts.

Beth grabs a pair of jeans from the basket and holds them up to her waist, deciding that while they're a size too big, she can find a belt somewhere to make them work. "That was nice of her."

"She said to swing by anytime, she knows where all the hidden gems are." Maggie folds up the shirt before walking over the pine dresser across from the bed, a flat screen TV perched upon it, surrounded by candles and picture frames, all of which were empty, save for one which had a poorly developed picture of her and Glenn in it. "Cleared out the bottom drawer for you and some room in the closet, too."

"Thanks." She was trying, focusing on what Rosita had said last night, about how Maggie would've stayed. Maybe she was being too critical, the world was different now. She walks over to the dresser and picks up the picture, a smile tugging on her lips. She didn't think she'd ever get to see a photo of the two of them together, it reinforced what she already knew—they were made for each other.

"Aaron took it a couple days after we got here." Maggie tells her. "I'm sure he'll take one of us if you want."

Beth nods, smiling growing. "I'd like that."

Maggie grabs her sister's hand. "I've got to go help Deanna, Abe has night shift tonight with Glenn so he's taking a nap, but if you need anything he told me to tell you he'd be willing to help."

"I think I've got it."

She nods, looking at her sister, believing her. "Okay, I trust you."

Maggie leaves minutes later, Beth following her out to the main room of the house once the front door had clicked shut. Glenn and Maggie had somehow scored the master bedroom on the first floor, and while it was large, it still felt tight to her. She was itching to get out in the house, explore what she hadn't seen. Closing the bedroom door softly behind her, not wanting to wake Abraham. She walks over to the kitchen, a smile forming on her face. She'd always wanted a setup like this, granite counters, plenty of storage. She runs her finger along the counter top as she walks, stopping in front of the sink to take a deep breath, this was her home now, though it didn't feel like it. Everything was different here, something she hadn't experienced before. Even the smell was different, stale cigars and burnt spam lingered just so in the air, a scent imprinted on the house by Abraham, according to Maggie.

The front door opens and she looks up, a guy with dark hair and a confused look on his face stood staring at her. This must be Eugene; the liar, the thief.

"Hello." His voice is deep and uncertain, in his hands a laundry basket filled with food and blankets.

"Hi."

He sniffs, attempting to clear his sinuses. "Extratropical cyclone's coming, Olivia sent this with me." He studies Beth as he comes closer to set the basket on the table, careful, not knowing her all that well.

"What?" She asks, watching as he sets the basket down with a light thud, inside are a few extra blankets, a couple cans, and a few large candles.

"Snow."

She nods, not knowing what to say to him. He stares for a few minutes longer, looking at the small scar on her forehead, making Beth feel extremely self-conscience as she shifts on her feet, looking towards the door to her room. "I'm gonna…" She trails off as she begins making her way towards the door, leaving Eugene standing there in his awkwardness.

Moving to this new place was supposed to be easier, was supposed to be better. Sure she was a little letdown by having to share a room with Maggie, but she didn't think it would be this hard. Back at the infirmary she knew Denise and Rosita, they made it bearable, but here with Abraham's cigar and spam smell and Eugene's everything, it was a little much. It didn't feel like home, like the prison, like the funeral home could've been. It was just a place, like she was staying at a friend's, a really bad sleepover she couldn't leave.

She spent the next couple of hours folding the remaining clothes that Jessie had sent over and reading a tattered copy of The Indian in the Cupboard that she found on the built in bookshelf when she heard Eugene's heavy footsteps head up the stairs. She was already desperately bored, Eugene was right, the sky was starting to spit snow, not even close to the severity she was thinking when she heard the term cyclone.

"How does soup sound for dinner?" Maggie pops her head in the door, a smile on her face.

"Fine."

"Clam chowder?"

"Gross." Beth smiles back, remembering a trip down to the Georgia coast when she was little, four hours in the back of a cramped car with Maggie and Shawn, barely any room to color or to get away from Maggie's loud discman playing some music their daddy would never approve of. It ended with Beth wanting to try some fresh clam chowder and throwing it up in the back of said car, soiling her coloring book and socks.

"Vegetable it is."

Beth and Maggie sat at the counter, splitting a can of vegetable between the two of them. They didn't really talk, Maggie deciding to pull back her overbearing nature for a night, instead letting her mind drift to Glenn out in the snow watching the gate. Beth's was drifting to Daryl, what was he doing tonight.

Beth slurp the stock up, before setting her bowl down in front of her. "I think I'm going to turn in."

"You sure? You could help me go over some stuff Deanna sent over."

"I'm definitely sure."

"I've got to start thinking about a job for you, you know." Maggie tells her as Beth slides off the stool, grabbing her bowl and heading over to the sink to wash it out. "I was thinking you could watch the kids? Like you did at the prison? There's a few more little ones here, so it wouldn't just be Judith."

Beth nods, she wanted to be useful, but she also knew that Maggie wouldn't let her on guard duty or let her go off on runs. She was going to have to stay put in Alexandria, at least for a little while. "Sure." She didn't have to like, but she knew that realistically, it made sense. She even agreed a little bit.

"I'll let Deanna know, then. She's been looking for someone to take that over."

She was on page 140 of her book, but she couldn't concentrate on it, thinking about Daryl. It'd been three days since she last saw him since all hands were on deck to prepare Alexandria for winter, for a night like this when a little bit of snow started falling from the sky, daring more to come down with it. She might not get another chance. She tosses the book to the side and slides off the bed and walks over to the window and pulls it up slowly at first, not wanting a bunch of noise to startle Maggie and bring her in the room. Inch by inch she raised it until it was large enough for her to crawl out. She grabs Daryl's jacket from the bench at the end of the bed and she's gone, hoping she remembers the way to Aaron and Eric's.


	14. fourteen

Eugene wasn't lying. Shortly after she reached the sidewalk, the air grew colder as wind made its way down the abandoned streets. She made her way to the crossroads and looked to her right upon hearing the booming sound of Abe's laugh from the guard post right behind their two houses. She takes a deep breath, shoving her hands further into the pockets of Daryl's jacket, trying to get warm. Seconds later she hears the sound of a door open down the street, down her street, she turns around and can barely make out a figure on the porch of the house next door, the one that a few members of the group were staying in. They come off the porch, their head down, not looking at anything, but Beth realizes that it's Rick and if Rick catches her out here without Maggie he will most likely tell Maggie despite it being none of his business. And if Maggie finds out that she's out here before she gets to Daryl she can kiss this plan goodbye.

He never looks up.

Instead he jogs up the stairs to Jessie's house and knocks twice before she opens the door, light pouring out onto the dark porch when a blonde woman and greets him with a kiss on the cheek before smiling and letting him in. This must be Jessie.

Her eyes widen. She had heard the rumblings of a rumor that Rick was into her; mostly from Rosita. Rosita was kind of a gossip, especially when she was doing menial work. Beth knew of Rick killing her husband, who according to the gossip was a horrible person. It took her a minute standing in the cold, staring at the house before deciding that Rick deserved some kind of happiness, no matter how brief. She was sure Jessie was a perfectly nice person.

The wind picks up and Beth remembers that she should really get going.

She arrives on Eric and Aaron's porch moments later, staring at the slate blue door. The door she had so many times through the windows of the infirmary, the porch with hints of railroad imagery. She'd heard about Terminus in small bits and pieces from Maggie. Part of her was glad she missed that, the other selfishly thinking her own train car of Grady Memorial was just as bad; if not worse. She knocks once before stepping away from the door and looking back to the infirmary; the lights out since the only patient (her) had finally gone home.

"Yeah?" The door opens and Beth turns around to see Aaron in the door frame, a pair of Simpsons printed flannel pants hanging over his sock feet, a blue hoodie keeping him warm. His face falters a bit as he looks at her; the too big coat, the scars on her face. "You shouldn't be out here, Beth. A Storm's moving in."

"I know." She responds quickly, feeling the goose pimples on her skin, raising the hair and sending a shiver down her spin. "Is Daryl here?"

"Yeah come on in." He moves out of the way and lets her in, closing the door behind her. "He should still be awake, his room's at the top of the stairs."

Their house seemed so normal, like nothing had ever happened. It was beautifully decorated, antiques peppered around, walls of license plates. "Thanks." She gives a small smile to Eric, who was turned on the couch to be in on the conversation. She turns to walk over to the staircase she can see peeking out behind a wall in the kitchen.

"Maggie know you're here?" Aaron asks, sucking his bottom lip in between his teeth, looking over to Eric.

Beth stops in her tracks and turns to look at him. So close. "No." Beth responds.

Aaron sighs. "It's bad enough having to worry about Daryl sneaking out, now I have worry about you, too?" He asks, a minor hint of amusement in his voice. "You didn't leave a note?"

"Didn't really think about it." She responds, a half lie. "I just need space away from her, you know? She's been on top of me since you and Daryl brought me back."

"She's your sister." Aaron responds. "She thought you were dead."

Beth breathes out a small sigh, the same story she's been hearing since she got here. "I still need space. She won't even let me sleep in my own room."

Aaron shifts on his feet, unsure of what to say as he understood where both of the Greene sisters were coming from. "Why don't you go tell Maggie that Beth is here." Eric interjects, knowing his husband was failing to come up with something to say. "And she's staying over tonight."

Beth allows a small smile to form on her face, turning to look at all of the license plates on the wall, the collections of antique signs dotted between them.

"Yeah, it's not like I can call her." Aaron sighs. "You owe me, Beth." He teases.

She nods. "I do."

She makes her way up the stairs slowly, cringing at the pain in her leg. Okay maybe Maggie was right about the stairs being too much to tackle on a daily basis. She wouldn't admit it. She pauses on the landing that connects the two flights of stairs and looks out the window; Alexandria was dark, the last few outdoor lights had been turned off. She felt bad for making Aaron walk down the street to tell Maggie she had snuck out. She tackles the next flight at the same speed, slowly and steadily, before taking a small rest at the top of the stairs. There was a soft yellow glow coming out of the room at the top. She could see down the hallway, four more doors spread out, three closed, one open. She figured the open door must be Aaron and Eric's room. The upstairs, just like the downstairs, was littered in various antique signs and photos. A couple plants, Beth couldn't tell if they were real or fake, occupied the space on the top landing, right across from Daryl's room. This was the kind of place Daryl deserved. A warm home with people who cared about him. He probably didn't care for it too much, preferring the wilderness outside the walls like he's always known, but that didn't mean he didn't deserve it.

She walks towards the door, peeking around the corner to see Daryl's room. It's pretty bare, especially compared to the rest of Aaron and Eric's house. The bedframe was old and brass, the edges of the head and foot boards curved with pieces of the plush comforter poking through the open pieces at the foot. There's a tall dresser directly in front of the door, an antique metal car on the top next to Daryl's collection of knives and small guns, laid in a pile, torn off after a long day. A shotgun is leaning against it, its tip just over the window sill, the curtains are still open, but the blinds are shut. On the right of the dresser, shoved into a corner that faced the bed, was a chair, where Daryl was sitting sideways, his dirty sock feet pressed against the wall with the window on it, and his head dangerously close to the accordion doors that hid his closet away from the world. Beth wondered what he kept in there, if anything. Daryl was whittling new bolts from pieces of wood, a collection of shavings forming on the piece of old newspaper he set on his tummy. The roles are reversed from the funeral home, when he snuck up on her while she was playing piano, this time she's watching him unwind the best way he can.

"You better not let Aaron see that mess." She states, leaning against the doorframe, a smile on her face.

He looks over. "Wouldn't be the first time he got mad about it." He responds and folds the newspaper in half, lifting it off his tummy and moving it to the floor. "What're you doin' here? Thought Maggie'd have you locked down."

"She did. I snuck out." She walks into the room and sits on his striped comforter before toeing her boots off. "Aaron is telling her right now."

"He and Eric are narcs." Daryl states. "Supposed to be bad tonight—that's what Eugene's been spreadin'. Couldn't go ten minutes without him yelling about the weather."

"At least he has a hobby that's useful."

"Ain't like he's doing much else." Daryl scoffs. "For someone as smart as he claims he is, he sure spends a lot of time with his thumb up his ass."

Beth cracks a smile. "You should teach him to hunt, you taught me."

"Pfft." Daryl sets his knife down next to his newspaper. "We'll be lucky if we can each him to farm in the spring."

"You guys don't have crops yet?"

"I don't know how these people survived, Beth." He sighs. "Each one of 'em is dumber than the next, Aaron and Eric are the only ones out here keeping these people fed. Reg did the wall, Deanna tried to run the place. Her kids are dumber than a box of rocks."

Ten minutes goes by of Daryl telling Beth about all of the inadequacies of Alexandria, stuff he coudlnt say before when they were in the infirmary. He had good ideas—they needed to start farming, raising crops, maybe finding some wild turkeys or other game birds to breed for meat. They needed to reinforce the walls, they needed to do so much work—they had gotten off so easy with no herds coming through. She loved hearing him be so passionate about something—he knew the worth of the community they had come across.

Then there's a soft rap at the doorframe, Daryl looks up and sees Aaron standing with a small canvas bag. "Maggie sent over some things."

"Was she mad?" Beth asks, turning to Aaron and taking the bag.

"Kind of." Aaron says truthfully. "She's fine with you staying here though. I think she just wanted you to ask."

Beth sighs. "Thanks, Aaron."


	15. fifteen

After Aaron wanders back downstairs, Beth goes through the bag Maggie had sent over. A fresh change of clothes for tonight and tomorrow, a pair of gloves, and a note.

 _I wish you would've told me you were going. I'm not mad._

 _You've been through a lot and I know that I've been extremely overbearing, Glenn and now Aaron have told me that I'm being too much. I didn't mean to come off as controlling. You're an adult now and I need to stop treating you like a baby, but I want you to talk to me, Beth. I know there's so much going on in that head of yours, things from Grady and things from before. We used to tell each other everything and I know I'm mostly to blame. Whether it was mama and Shawn dying or daddy wanting to keep those walkers in the barn or Glenn or Washington. I'm sorry Beth, I haven't been a very good big sister. I want us to get back to that, daddy always hated when we fought, and I do, too._

 _Aaron said you can stay with them as long you want, I know you'll be safe there, but I'm going to be here when you're ready to talk or come home._

 _I love you,_

 _Maggie_

Daryl watched Beth as she held the note in her hand, a small tear welling up her eye before she folds it gently. "Where's the bathroom?" She asks after she clears her throat, avoiding looking at him.

"Down the hall on the right."

"Thanks." She takes her bag and rushes out of the room, not wanting Daryl to see her cry over a note from her sister. A sister that it was making increasingly more difficult to be mad at.

While Beth was gone, Daryl cleaned up his mess and got ready for bed, peeling off his three times worn clothes and shoving them in the laundry basket Eric made him keep in the closet. If he went more than three days without changing his clothes Eric and Aaron had a talk with him about depression and quite frankly, he didn't think the clothes were dirty but he really didn't want to hear it from the two of them, not with Beth around. He changed into his flannel pajama bottoms and black long sleeved shirt before shoving the new bolts into the holder on his bow and discarded the shavings into a small plastic bag he kept on him for when he needed to kindle a fire. He'd sleep on the couch tonight, give Beth a chance at a real bed. Eric was just as anal about the sheets as he was Daryl's clothes, so luckily they had been changed that morning, Eric had made sure of it by watching him from the door frame, instructing him on how to tell the sides apart on a fitted sheet. At times Daryl felt much like Beth did with Maggie; Aaron and Eric were overbearing in their own way. It was a lot to go from doing whatever the hell he wanted with no regard for anything to being watched and cared about every second of the day. There were times where he felt like he was being treated like a child, the way Eric would hover to make sure he was being hygienic, sometimes he wanted to go off like a ticking time bomb, but then he remembered where that behavior got him in the first place, most of the time it was away from the people he cared for most. He was trying, he was ireally/i trying. Carol's words and even Merle's didn't fall on deaf ears. He had gotten something that so many people would never get; he got a second chance. He got Beth back.

His mom, when she was in her right mind, would occasionally pull the corner of the comforter down for him when she was collecting his dirty clothes. He never understood why she did it, but it always made him, even if it was just for a moment, happy. So he did the same for Beth, pulling the corner down just a little on the side of the bed next to the closet, where the pillows were perfectly puffed from never being used. He stands there awkwardly, shifting on his feet, waiting for her like some kind of child. He didn't want to go downstairs without saying goodnight.

He hears her come down the hallway and he moves away from the door. Her hair is braided into two pigtails that fall onto her light blue long sleeved shirt. Flannel pajama bottoms that are pink and yellow on her legs. "We kind of match." She muses before setting her bag down in front of the side table. Daryl's face remains still, staring at her while he stands there awkwardly. "Is there a blanket for the couch?"

"You're taking the bed." Daryl informs her. "Extra blanket on the top shelf in the closet if you need it."

She raises her eyebrow at him. "It's your bed."

"It's fine."

"Daryl—"

"It's fine." He tells her again.

She knows he's not going to let up, so she nods and rubs her left arm. "Okay, thanks. Goodnight, Daryl."

"Night." He nods and heads out into the hallway, quietly making his way to the stairwell. She feels bad, taking this thing from him that he deserved. A bed, a real bed in a nice home with really nice people. She knows it's only for a night, but she can't help but let out a defeated sigh when she hears his feet against the wood downstairs. With a nod to herself she closes the door until its cracked just enough to see the nightlight that was out in the hallway, then she turns to the bed, a small smile creeping across her face when she notices the downturned corner of the bed. She had missed him so much when she was away at Grady, just knowing she had someone to watch her back, someone she could trust, someone that was so caring and kind without needing to be. Someone who truly felt the other half of her.

Who knew Daryl Dixon of all people would be that person.

She had a hard time falling asleep. The bed was the most comfortable thing she had slept on since the farm, really. She had gotten used to the bunks at the prison, gladly accepting the care packages of foam padding Maggie and Glenn would find out on runs and bring back to her, often times with new sheets that were exactly what she was looking for; colorful patterns in pinks, blues, yellows, and greens. Maggie was always a really good gift giver, especially for Beth. She could find something in a vintage store or a big chain store and it would be exactly what Beth didn't know she wanted or even needed. A pretty delicate cross necklace, a pillow shaped like a guitar, an old photo of a vintage beauty that could go on her vanity for some added décor. Maggie knew her sister through and through. She thought about Maggie, how this whole thing was new to her, how she had to remember that Maggie was dealing with a situation that was entirely different than her own. Maggie thought her sister was dead, Maggie moved on with her life to survive since there was no luxury of slowing down just because a loved one died, they were reunited, she gained her sister back. And Maggie had no idea of what Beth had been through at Grady, how it had made her a stronger person, a person that didn't need to be coddled every second of the day, a person who was now a genuine fighter, someone who could make it hundreds of miles on their own. Beth was now that person; she was more like Maggie than ever before.

She would talk to Maggie tomorrow, after they've had their first night apart since she was rescued by Aaron and Daryl in that church, brought to her by some otherworldly being; God maybe. Jesus, even. Perhaps the Virgin Mother. All she knew was that she was so thankful for whoever or whatever it was.

She had been lying here for forty minutes, thinking about Maggie, about Daryl, about her family. She probably wouldn't be sleeping much at all tonight. She climbed out of the bed and quietly made her way to the closet. There was nothing hanging on the racks except a few sad, empty hangers. The shelves had the extra blankets that Daryl had promised her, the oatmeal colored one was thick and plush, while the thinner one was green and woven. Next to them were large, clear boxes. One contained extra candles and a book of matches, the one next to it had some miscellaneous décor that looked like it wasn't even close to being Aaron and Eric's taste. Loud colors, bold designs. The only thing in this closet that was remotely Daryl was the laundry basket in the corner with a few clothing items haphazardly tossed inside. It made her sad that Daryl hadn't warmed up enough to make this place his own. Maggie and Glenn's room was covered in things that made the space homey. Pictures, little figurines from runs, a small blanket folded on the end of the bed like Maggie always had back at the farm. Daryl's room was really just a bed to him, nothing more. Maybe it was the same way he saw Alexandria; a place to sleep, eat, and that was it. The thought of him not wanting to warm up to a new home like he had at the prison made her want to do something to fix it. All of them, but especially Daryl, deserved a place they could feel safe and comfortable in, and Beth had just decided that she was going to make it her duty to change Alexandria into that. No more waiting for the next run delivery. It was time to make Alexandria work for them.


End file.
